


Intelligent Solutions

by wendymr



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post-S7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"It's not quite that simple." </i>James is resigning, Robbie is retiring - or are they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intelligent Solutions

**Author's Note:**

> With many thanks to Lindenharp and Uniquepov for patient and helpful BRing and listening to me whinge about this on IM, and to Sasha1600 for being kind enough to read chunks pasted in IM and tell me she didn't hate it ;) Written for the Summer Challenge 2013 on the Lewis Challenge community on LiveJournal.

The morning after the Big Conversation, as he thinks of it, with James, Robbie enters their shared office to find a mug of coffee on his desk and no sign of his sergeant. In his resignation meeting with Innocent, Robbie concludes, and gets stuck into his report on Stella Drew’s confession and arrest.

Around an hour later, James strolls in. Robbie glances up to say good morning, but the words fall away as he sees the bemused expression on his soon-to-be former sergeant’s lips. “How did the meeting go?” he asks instead. “Signed your papers, have you?”

James gives him an extremely odd look. “Not... exactly.”

Robbie frowns. “What does that mean?”

James hasn’t sat down, and now he’s standing beside Robbie’s desk. “Got time for a coffee, sir?”

He doesn’t point out that he’s just had one, courtesy of James. Clearly, the bloke needs to talk, and not at the nick. “Course.” He activates his screen-saver and stands. “Thought I told you to call me Robbie, by the way.”

“Not at work, surely?” James’s hands slide into his trouser pockets and he stands aside to let Robbie lead the way.

Robbie shrugs. “Why not, if there’s no-one else around? Even if there is, I’m on me way out, an’ I thought you were too. No, it’s all right,” he adds as James frowns and opens his mouth to speak. “Tell me when we’ve got our coffee.”

___________________________________________

They get a couple of takeaway cups from Costa Coffee in Waterstones, then stroll into the inner quad of Balliol to find a relatively secluded bench. It’s still early enough in the morning that tourists are few in number, and students are either in lectures or still in bed.

He’ll miss this, snatching a few peaceful moments during the day to sit with James, elbows touching, as they chew over the case, mock each other about trivial nothings, or even just enjoy each other’s company in silence while the acrid aroma of James’s inevitable cigarette wafts over them. He really doesn’t mind that at all now, though both Lyn and Laura have told him that they’re glad he won’t be spending so much time inhaling second-hand smoke in future. 

“So what’s this all about, then?” he asks, breaking the silence after a minute or two. “You seemed so sure yesterday.” He turns to face James, their knees brushing. “If you’re staying after all, I’ll delay me retirement – at least see you through the first bit of OSPRE, if nothin’ else.” That, of course, was one of the reasons he’d been pushing James to state his interest in promotion; so that he could be the one to mentor James through the exam, and maybe help him get started on the next stage if he was ready quickly enough – which, knowing James’s massive brain, he would be. 

It’s a relief, hearing that James might not be walking away from his career after all. He lay awake a long time last night worrying about the bloke, even though Laura said that James is old enough and sensible enough to know what he’s doing. Laura didn’t talk to James after that lad Adam Tibbit hanged himself, though. 

It’s not that Robbie minds that James decided policing’s not for him, or even thinks that James is wrong. It’s that James decided to resign without a job to go to. Unless he has considerable savings – unlikely, given the way he lives – or a private income, then how would he manage until he found another job?

If Innocent has persuaded him to stay, then that’s good. And worth putting off his retirement for six months to a year, definitely.

“It’s not quite that simple.” James takes a long draw on his cigarette, then turns his head to exhale, blowing the smoke away from Robbie. 

Nothing with James is ever that simple, of course. Nothing new there. “What, then?” Robbie keeps his tone casual, instead of the gruff impatience he’d normally use to make the bloke get to the point. With everything James has been through over the past few days, he doesn’t need to feel under pressure.

“She wanted to know why.” James blows out some more smoke. “And, when I told her, she said there could be an alternative.”

Robbie sips at his coffee. “Oh?”

“It’s more of a behind-the-scenes role.” James stubs out the end of his cigarette, and fumbles for another as he continues to explain. “Overseeing clear-up rates in CID – not just our nick, but in the county as a whole. Some of it’s number-crunching: analysis of rate and speed of clear-up among teams–”

Robbie sighs. “Don’t tell me she’s got you with her on this metrics stuff! It’s all nonsense. Every case is different. You can’t run some computer analysis an’ tell working detectives that cases have to be solved in two point seven five weeks.”

James tilts his head and gives Robbie an exasperated frown. “As if I’d buy into something so simplistic. There’s been some work done on this in Edinburgh, and it’s quite sophisticated. I think I might enjoy working with their methods. And it’s not just about making a point with numbers. You know as well as I do, Robbie – you’ve said it enough – that some people’s solving rates could definitely be improved.” He emphasises his argument by waving his cigarette.

Robbie nods; that’s certainly true. “Go on.”

“The point of the role, Innocent said, isn’t to produce a stick to beat senior officers with. The data will just give us some areas to focus on. Then it’s all about designing and delivering in-service training on methods to improve results. Sharing good practice – are there methods some teams use that could be usefully employed by others? Working with teams to develop strengths in areas of weakness. Consulting on challenging cases. Reviewing cases slated for ‘inactive’ status and sending them back if we think there’s grounds to keep investigating, or lines of enquiry that haven’t been exhausted.”

Robbie can’t remember when he’s last seen James so animated, or interested in anything to do with the job. And he has to admit that he’d be happier to see the bloke staying on in the force. James has a talent for police work, and the potential to reach a rank far higher than Robbie’s own. Concern over what James would do instead, and how he’d manage to support himself, has been eating at him since they parted yesterday evening.

“Does sound like the sort of thing you’d be good at. An’ I won’t say I’m not happy to see you so enthusiastic.” Robbie sips at his coffee, then gives James a rueful grimace. “Only one problem, though. What you’ve just been describing... that’s not a job for a sergeant. An’ even if Innocent put you forward for promotion straight away – course, she’d be mad not to – it’d still be months before she could even make you an acting inspector under the new National Promotion Framework. You’d never be taken seriously, even then.”

The raised eyebrow James gives him tells Robbie the bloke’s already well aware of that. So what...?

His question’s answered a moment later. “That’s the final part of Innocent’s proposal. It’s not a job for one person. She wants both of us.”

“What?” Robbie blinks. “But I’m retirin’. She knows that.”

“And she’s convinced you won’t when it comes to it. I told her that’s up to you. But she wants you to head this up. She said – and I agree that there’s considerable merit to the idea – that not only are you the best choice by far for the training and development aspect, but that it will give you much better work-life balance. Unlike front-line detective work, it’s a nine to five job, with weekends off unless there’s a genuine emergency, and with none of the stress and personal involvement of our current work.”

“And it’d take you away from those stresses too,” Robbie says, studying James. No more Adam Tibbits or Vicki Walmsleys, and no more escaping death thanks to a quarter-inch of foam. It’s worth considering. 

He can’t deny, either, that Innocent’s barbs about being bored stupid stuck at home watching Countdown have been getting to him. Yes, he’d like to slow down, and spend more time with the people who matter to him without the constant possibility of having to cancel arrangements because of work, but he’s not ready to spend his days pottering around an allotment or being a house-husband. If Laura were retiring as well, it’d be different – but she’s nowhere near ready, and probably won’t be for nigh on ten years yet.

Maybe this could work. It’s worth considering, though he’d have to talk to Laura – she’s been very keen on the idea of him retiring, after all. 

He drains his coffee and throws the cup into a nearby bin. “Come over tonight and we’ll talk about it, eh?”

James hesitates. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Robbie rolls his eyes with a huff. “Ah, don’t talk nonsense. Just cause Laura might be around doesn’t mean you’re any less welcome than before.”

The way James doesn’t meet his eyes suggests that the younger man isn’t entirely convinced. Robbie jabs his elbow into his sergeant’s side, then stands. “You’re me mate, not just me sergeant,” he says as they fall into step together. “Best mate, more like. Thought I made meself clear on that in the pub last night. Whether or not we stay in the force, you’re as much a part of me life as Laura is – assuming you want to be, that is.”

James touches his arm lightly, a brief brush of fingers against Robbie’s sleeve. “I do. Thank you. And, yes, I’ll come to yours later.”

___________________________________________

Over beer and a takeaway, they talk more about it, and also review the file James acquired from Innocent, which includes a report on the Edinburgh study as well as the proposal Innocent put to the Chief Constable a couple of months ago and has just received formal approval for.

“So who was she planning on putting in charge?” Robbie asks as he finishes reading the proposal.

James quirks one brow, giving him a wry smile at the same time. “While that may be a question you could ask and potentially get an answer, it would be seen as impertinent coming from a lowly sergeant like me.”

“Never stopped you before,” Robbie retorts with a grin, and gets up to open another couple of bottles of Bridge. “I am curious, though. Wondering who knocked her back that she’s comin’ to us.” After all, if she’d been considering him in the first place, she could have brought it up as soon as he mentioned retirement. 

“I couldn’t swear to it, but I’m not sure she’s talked about it with anyone else. She said the usual – confidential, I can’t discuss it with anyone but you – but also something to the effect that there’d be senior officers who would be somewhat upset to know the role had already been offered before they even knew about it.”

Robbie tilts his head a little and studies James. “You want this, don’t you?”

There’s resolve in James’s expression, as well as what looks like almost apologetic enthusiasm. “I do. But that doesn’t mean you have to–” 

“Let’s do it, then.” Robbie smiles at his partner, then stretches out a hand. 

James hesitates. “I don’t want you to say yes just because it’s something I want. You want to retire, I know that. I should have said no to Innocent–”

“Don’t be daft.” Robbie cuffs his upper arm, since his hand was reaching to James anyway. “I do want to get away from the out-all-hours, always-on-call work. Physically, I’m fit enough, but I’ve had nearly forty years of it. All the same, I’ve been thinking about what I’d do in me retirement, an’ Innocent’s right: I’m not cut out to sit around here watching TV. And I don’t much fancy an allotment, even if you were around to work on it with me.”

“What about the dingy?” James teases.

Robbie shrugs. “You’re the rower. We’ll hire one some time if you like. An’ then maybe when I actually retire we can get one.” It strikes him that he’s taking a lot for granted in assuming that James will still want to spend time with him when he’s a proper pensioner – but then, he didn’t imagine the expression on James’s face, or the longing in his voice, when they were joking about things they could do together if they were both retired. At least, Robbie was joking, but he strongly suspects James wasn’t.

“If you’re sure, then, about staying?” Robbie nods. James extends his hand. “I’m glad,” he says as they shake on it. “I know I’m interested in this job, but I still wouldn’t have wanted to do it without you.”

That goes for both of them; Robbie assumes James knows that. “I do have a few conditions. We’ll need to see Innocent tomorrow, talk it all through.”

“Talk what through?” Robbie jumps; he never heard Laura come in. 

“Didn’t know you were here, love. James and I are probably gonna take on a new role at the nick. We were just discussing it.” He stands, going to get her a beer.

Laura frowns, and he can see disapproval in her eyes. “But you’re retiring, Robbie. And didn’t you tell me James is resigning?”

James pushes his chair back. “I should go. Thanks for your time, sir.” He gathers up the papers, moving stiffly and not meeting Robbie’s eyes. “Goodnight, Dr Hobson. See you tomorrow, sir.”

“Wait.” Laura reaches out to touch James’s arm, her tone apologetic. “James, I didn’t mean to make you rush off. And, before you say it, you’re not intruding. Please stay – and, by the way, it’s long past time you called me Laura, even if Robbie still insists on standing on ceremony.”

“I don’t,” Robbie protests, handing Laura an opened bottle. “Stupid sod just ignores me.”

“ _Robbie, Laura_ ,” James says with emphasis. “I am going home, but I appreciate the welcome.” He pats Robbie’s back, brushes a light kiss against Laura’s cheek, then is gone.

Laura tilts her head to look up at Robbie, raising both eyebrows. “Something you want to tell me?”

___________________________________________

Laura’s not completely convinced about his change of plans, and admits after a while that she isn’t sure that he’s doing it for himself, not James. He’s sure, though, which is what matters. Despite everything he’d insisted to Innocent, he has been having serious second thoughts about those long, empty days – especially with Laura still working. And, while somehow it had seemed okay for him to be the one to break up his partnership with James, once James had announced his intention to resign Robbie’d realised that he really didn’t want to lose their daily contact at all. And the promise of the occasional pint and James’s threatened pensioner special hadn’t made up for it one bit.

Laura’s question does make him think, all the same: would he do it if it were more for James than himself? He suspects it’s possible, as long as he felt the job was doable. Because, he realises as he reflects on the matter in bed, Laura sleeping soundly beside him, James’s happiness matters to him too. It always has, and even more so after watching the bloke over the past few months, where his smiles have become ever more rare and the slump in his shoulders has seemed almost to be a permanent feature.

But it’s not just for James. While he’s not interested in the number-crunching – but then, that can be James’s thing – the rest sounds interesting and might actually achieve some results. James is right that there are other teams, or more particularly other DIs, that he’s been privately grumbling about for years due to shoddy police work, poor documentation or downright laziness – James’s former governor being one of them, though Knox has been out of the force since not long after the drink-driving incident. If he can manage to set some standards across the board, that wouldn’t be a bad legacy. 

If at the same time he can help James find a future for himself where he can be happy, at least in his career, that’s a bonus.

___________________________________________

“So you’re on board, Robbie?” Innocent’s looking both pleased and relieved, and Robbie can’t help feeling flattered – and grateful that she’s not pointing out that she predicted he’d change his mind.

But he’s not quite ready to give her what she wants just yet. “I do have a couple of conditions, ma’am.”

Innocent raises an eyebrow. “Conditions, Robbie? Well, I’m not promising anything, but let’s hear them.”

“First, and most important–” He glances towards James, standing silently by his side. “–I want Hathaway on the promotion path. Next OSPRE, an’ then NPPF, if that applies now.” He’d told James that would be one of his priorities; James hadn’t seemed bothered one way or another, but as far as Robbie’s concerned his promotion’s long overdue. 

“Already part of the plan, Robbie. Even with you on board, this isn’t a job for a sergeant. The only problem with NPPF, though, is that James will need to be supervised and assessed by a more senior officer during his period as an acting inspector.” Robbie’s face falls; out of the corner of his eye, he notices the similar dismay on James’s face. He makes a guess at Innocent’s intentions. “That would be you, then, ma’am?” He bloody well hopes so. There are two DCIs and one superintendent at the nick, and he wouldn’t trust either of them with his – with James. 

But Innocent’s looking amused at the idea. “Me? I hardly think James would appreciate that – and nor would you want me looking over your shoulder all the time. No, there’s only one realistic option. It’ll take a few weeks to sort, but I don’t envisage any problems. You’ve more than earned the promotion anyway, Robbie, and given what you’ll be dealing with in this new role – and who, in some cases – you’ll need the standing of DCI to get the job done.”

Chief Inspector? He never imagined that. Robbie feels James’s gaze on him, and does his best not to look sideways. James occasionally has a bad influence on him in this office, and today isn’t the day to take that risk. “Chief Inspector, ma’am? Isn’t that a competitive process?”

“Usually, but in cases of operational necessity that can be bypassed. I’ve already run this past the Chief Constable and he’s on board. All I’ll need are the requisite forms–” She passes a folder to Robbie. “As soon as possible, please. And, James, I want your OSPRE paperwork on my desk by noon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” James sounds as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, but Robbie just knows that’s far from the truth. As long as the bloke keeps his facetiousness until they’re out of Innocent’s office, that’s all that matters.

“Now, Robbie, you said you had other conditions?”

“Yeah. Will this team be just the two of us, or will we have any junior officers?”

“Just the two of you for now. You can second officers from general duties as needed. Why? Was there anyone in particular you wanted?”

“Lockhart and Sohal, ma’am. What’s happening to the rest of our team, anyway?”

“I’ll let you tell them that you two are moving on. My thought was to assign the team as a whole to another inspector – Grayson’s completed the requirements for promotion and I’ve been waiting for a position for her. Did you have a problem with that?” Innocent raises an eyebrow, as if daring Robbie to disagree.

“Grayson’s a decent copper,” Robbie agrees instead. “I’d just like to talk to all of them, find out what they’d like to do. I’m sure they’ll be fine with working with Grayson, but some of them might have other ambitions. A couple are close to being ready for sergeant’s OSPRE...”

Innocent agrees, after some discussion, that Robbie can provide her with the names of any officers he thinks are ready for promotion, and that if it’s possible to move Lockhart and Sohal to areas from where he and James can second them it’ll be done. All in all, not a bad morning’s work, he thinks as they leave the meeting.

___________________________________________

Robbie sets another bottle of Bridge in front of James, who looks up from his study materials with a smile. “Thanks, Robbie.” Immediately, he pulls a face. “That definitely feels weird.”

“What does?”

“Calling you Robbie when you’re now two ranks above me.” Robbie’s DCI was formally approved today, three weeks after their meeting with Innocent; the nameplate on their new office door has already been replaced.

“Won’t be for long. Your exam’s next week. Then it’s just a matter of waiting for the results before Innocent can bump you to Acting Inspector.”

James has been over at Robbie’s every other evening in the last three weeks, often sleeping on the couch rather than driving home. Although, with his massive brain, memorising the materials isn’t a challenge for James, it’s not just about memory. Some of the questions are about interpretation, and there are definite traps for the unwary. So James spends one evening studying alone, and the next practising answers with Robbie, and during the day Robbie’s making him think like an inspector, going through cold cases with James as the lead investigator. They’re going to make bloody sure that James passes with flying colours.

“You’re absolutely sure that Laura doesn’t mind?” James asks for about the twentieth time since they started this study routine. “I can’t help feeling guilty about taking your time away from her.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? An’ anyway, she’s told you herself. This is important. We’ll have all the time we want to spend together after next week – an’ it’s not as if I never see her, anyway.” Or as if he’d be able to spend every evening with Laura anyway; she’s on evening duty or overnight on-call at least twice a week.

“Right.” James nods, though he still looks unconvinced. He gives an awkward shrug. “You two must’ve had the longest will-they-won’t-they courtship in existence, and now you’re finally a couple I’m in your way at least half the time, like a six foot three cockb–”

Robbie cuts across him. “Don’t you dare finish that.” James grins impishly, and Robbie throws a scrunched-up ball of waste paper at him. 

What he should tell James is that if he found himself a partner they could all spend time together: go out for meals, walks in the country, maybe even weekends away. But he shies away from expressing the thought, mostly because the few times he’s raised the notion in the past James hasn’t reacted well. And also, though he isn’t sure why, Robbie finds he’s not altogether comfortable with the idea of James with a girlfriend – or boyfriend. Though that doesn’t make any sense.

But what he thinks doesn’t matter, does it? It’s what James wants that matters. And Robbie’s suspected for some time that the reason James isn’t married or in a relationship isn’t that he’s just crap at dating. He’s rarely even so much as shown interest in women – or men – in a romantic or sexual way, and if Robbie had to speculate he’d say that James might be asexual. Whatever the reason, though, if James isn’t interested in finding himself a partner Robbie’s not going to let him sit in that flat of his, drinking alone. They’re mates, and Laura understands that. It’s not as if he and Laura are teenagers embarking on a first romance; they don’t need to live in each other’s pockets, or be alone together all the time. James will be as welcome in his home as he’s always been.

___________________________________________

“Detective Inspector Hathaway!” Robbie toasts, holding his glass across the dinner-table to James.

“Congratulations, James!” Laura does the same. James clinks his wine-glass against both of theirs, a pink flush stealing over his face and down his neck.

“It’s just _Acting_ Inspector,” James reminds them both, but Robbie immediately pulls a face.

“It’ll be full-blown DI as soon as the year’s up,” he points out. “You know you’ll sail through the assessment. Not that I’m gonna go easy on you, mind.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” James replies, his grin suggesting that there’s sarkiness coming. “Why change the habits of a lifetime?”

“Oh, you’ve had it easy, man. You have no idea.” Robbie gives James a wry shake of his head. “Laura’ll tell you – if I treated you the way Morse treated me... You don’t know you’re born.”

James quirks an eyebrow. “I generally buy the drinks, and end up designated driver. And write all your reports.”

“He’s got a point, Robbie,” Laura says with a smile. “Well, maybe half a point.” She tilts her head and looks at James. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Robbie call you _a bloody half-wit who doesn’t have the native intelligence of a goldfish_ , have I?”

James blinks. “And you said Chief Inspector Morse worked with you for fifteen years, Robbie? Did he always have such poor judgement?”

Robbie feels his cheeks growing warm. Oh, he’s always known he’s not as thick as Morse would frequently suggest – he’d passed his sergeant’s exams by then, after all, and Morse would never have kept him on if he were really a brainless idiot – but to hear James the genius endorse his intelligence is nice.

“Have another drink.” Robbie tops up James’s glass as they move to the sofa, then Laura’s and his own.

James frowns. “I shouldn’t. Driving, remember?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know very well there are two spare bedrooms upstairs,” Laura points out. They’re at her house for the celebratory dinner, as there’s more space than in Robbie’s flat. 

“I couldn’t–” James starts to protest.

Robbie swings an arm around James and pats his shoulder. “One thing I’ve learnt over close to twenty years of knowing Laura is not to argue with her. She probably doesn’t bring her scalpels home, but I’ve never dared ask.” 

James rests his head against Robbie’s shoulder, looking up with an exaggeratedly soppy smile. “I’ll protect you, Robbie.”

On his other side, Laura bursts out laughing.

___________________________________________

A month on from James’s promotion, they’ve got into the swing of their new jobs. James, as Robbie expected, has taken charge of what he calls data management. In the first week, he’d created a database with, as he tried to explain to Robbie, fields for all the data points he wants to analyse, and then imported all case records from the county for the past ten years. That was the point in James’s explanation when Robbie’d held up a hand. “Just tell me the important stuff when you’ve done your number-crunching, all right?”

“It never ceases to amaze me, _sir_ –” James still calls him _sir_ around the nick, though now it’s far more likely to be mocking than respectful. “–that someone who understands cricket scoring as well as you can’t cope with numbers in other contexts.”

Robbie’d just smirked. “Why keep a dog and bark yourself?”

It’s nice getting every weekend off, and being able to count on leaving at a decent time every evening. They rarely knock off at five on the dot; they’re both too conscientious for that, and they’ve always shared a tendency to get caught up in what they’re doing and lose track of time. Of course, Laura’s working hours haven’t changed; she works or is on call every other weekend, and even if it isn’t her turn to work late she rarely gets to leave before six or seven. 

They fall into a routine: on evenings when Laura’s working late, James and Robbie go for a drink and sometimes a meal, or back to one or other’s flat to eat together. At Laura’s insistence, these days takeaways are rare. James is helping Robbie to broaden his expertise in the kitchen; Robbie cooks under his friend’s guidance, or they cook together, and then when Laura is actually able to get home in time for dinner Robbie tries out the more successful of his new recipes. Sometimes James will join them, but Robbie knows he worries about intruding, despite both him and Laura insisting otherwise.

James also keeps him company during the weekends when Laura has to work. Robbie strongly suspects that James and Laura are in collusion, because the telly-watching and pub jaunts he thought they’d have are few and far between. Instead, James has taken him hiking in the woods, out on the river – at least James was the one rowing – and twice climbing in the Cotswolds. Strolling, James called it; maybe his long legs didn’t notice the gradient on those bloody hills, but Robbie’s thighs and calves did.

He’s enjoyed their days out, though. If Laura doesn’t mind him disappearing with James for a weekend, he might suggest a trip further afield – he hasn’t been to the Welsh borders in years. It’d mean an overnight stay, which he’s sure James wouldn’t have a problem with. 

He’ll ask Laura if she’s okay with the idea this evening. If he sees her, that is. Robbie frowns. There’s something going on with Laura, and he hasn’t got a clue what. She’s been distracted the last few times he’s seen her, and she’s made excuses not to spend the night with him in the last week. And because he’s barely seen her, he hasn’t had a chance to ask her what’s wrong.

Robbie sighs. It’s loud enough to attract James’s attention. “Something wrong?”

He’s about to say no, then changes his mind. “I need a break. Fancy a coffee?”

They decide to head for Christchurch Meadow once they have their Costa takeaway cups, and for a while they stroll in companionable silence. It’s not lost on Robbie that James is using his own skills against him: waiting him out until he’s ready to talk, rather than asking what’s bothering him.

“I think Laura’s gone off me,” he says eventually, and it occurs to him that if James _had_ asked that’s probably not what he would have said. 

“You’re joking!” James exclaims. “No, it has to be something else. I’ve seen the two of you together, remember.”

“Not in the last week or so.” Robbie describes the change in Laura’s behaviour, pushing past his embarrassment as he talks about her avoidance of sex with him. “I don’t know if I’ve done something to upset her or what. She’s not said anything, but it’s not as if I don’t know women expect you to know when you’ve pissed them off.”

Relationship maintenance was never really his strong point. He was lucky all those years that Val was willing to be patient with him and – most of the time, anyway – tell him what he’d done wrong. He’s got no right to expect that Laura will be the same.

“Have you asked her?” James’s tone is calm, reassuring.

“Haven’t had a chance, man! Barely seen her, like I said.”

James smiles faintly, and pats Robbie’s shoulder. “I realise that deep and meaningful conversation isn’t exactly your strong point...”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Robbie shoots James an exasperated glare. “Not like you’ve got grounds to gloat on that one.”

“I’m not the one with the girlfriend,” James points out with a smirk. The empathy’s back in his voice as he continues. “Talk to her. At least ask her if something’s wrong. And...” He hesitates, then adds, “You know you can talk to me any time, if it would help. I mean _any_ time.” 

Even if it’s the middle of the night, Robbie knows he means. “Thanks, James. You’re a good mate.”

James shrugs, a typically awkward gesture combined with the bashful smile Robbie’s grown familiar with over the years. “You’ve been a good friend to me over the years, more than I’ve deserved. Anything I can do for you in return...”

Robbie sighs inwardly. Why does James insist on underestimating his own worth? Robbie’s tried subtly over the years to get the message across that he values James both as a copper and as a person. Clearly, he needs to start being less subtle.

For now, he lays his hand against James’s back. “Case you hadn’t realised, it’s mutual. So don’t be any more of an idiot than you can help.” He drops his hand. “Come on, time we got back.” And he will try to talk to Laura tonight, even if he has to go over to her place and wait for her to come home.

___________________________________________

James went home straight after work this evening, insisting that Robbie didn’t need any distractions from trying to sort things out with Laura, not even a pint after work. Robbie knows he’s right, even though there’s a bit of a coward inside him who’d prefer to have a couple of drinks and a confidence-boosting chat with his best mate before going to Laura’s for the conversation he’s already dreading.

He doesn’t have to go to Laura’s. She phones him on his mobile at around half-six to say that she’s coming over as soon as she finishes work. He offers to cook dinner, and he can hear the tiredness and gratitude in her voice as she accepts.

Lamb chops with baked potatoes and runner beans, he thinks, rummaging in his fridge. Six months ago, he’d have been lucky to find a single vegetable in here, let alone meat that hadn’t already been cooked when he bought it. Laura’s been a good influence on him in that regard. Well, Laura and James; it’s James who’s taught him to cook and held his hand – metaphorically speaking – while he made mistakes and needed to be given instructions over and over.

The faint hope he was harbouring that he’s been imagining it all dies as soon as Laura arrives and kisses his cheek instead of giving him a proper snog. Over dinner, she talks about the cases she’s working on, and asks how he and James are getting on with the initial report Innocent’s asked for.

As he clears away the dishes, Robbie rehearses words in his head to start the conversation he knows needs to happen, but nothing sounds right. In the end, he knows he just has to go for it, and as Laura takes two mugs of coffee into the living-room he takes a deep breath. “Laura, love–”

She interrupts, her tone surprisingly gentle. “Robbie, we need to talk.” 

His heart slams into his stomach, but it’s as much with relief as trepidation; now he doesn’t have to be the one to broach the subject.

All the same, he huffs. “Four most terrifying words a woman can say to a bloke.” But he shrugs and gestures to the sofa. Looks like now he’ll finally find out what’s been up with Laura for the past few days.

She chooses the armchair and sits opposite him. “This isn’t going to be easy for either of us, Robbie, but I think we’re making a mistake.” He’s about to protest, but she holds up a hand. “Please.” She takes a deep breath, then continues. “I know you love me. I love you too. But you’re not _in_ love with me, and I don’t think you’re ever going to be.” 

He wants to interrupt, to deny what she’s saying, but this time it’s his own conscience holding him back. Quietly, he says, “Go on.”

“Val’s always going to be first with you, Robbie. I’ve always known that, and I accepted it when we started seeing each other. I thought it would be okay – at our time of life, we’re not looking for a grand passion or anything like that. I knew we could be comfortable together. You wouldn’t let me down, and you’d never deliberately let me feel that I was second-best–” 

“You’re not!” he interrupts, and there’s something in his throat making his voice sound hoarse. 

Is this it? Has he been making Laura feel unappreciated, a poor second to Val? That’s not what– He never would have started this in the first place if he hadn’t felt sure that he’d put Val behind him and was ready to move on. “Laura, I–” he begins again, then stops, unsure what to say to her. 

“Robbie, I don’t mean that I feel you’re comparing us, or that she’s a ghost in bed with us, or anything like that. And it’s probably as much me as you, anyway – I always liked Val, you know that, and I think I’m the one making comparisons. It’s not that. I... As I said, I knew we could be comfortable together, and I thought that was what I wanted.”

“And it’s not,” Robbie concludes for her. He wants to ask what it is she wants, and find out how he can give it to her – but what’s holding him back is a growing conviction that she’s right. He isn’t _in_ love with her, not the way he was with Val. Laura deserves to come first with someone, and he can’t give her that. 

And with that realisation, something else becomes apparent as well. “You’ve found what you want, haven’t you?”

Laura bites her lip, and her gaze drops just for a moment before she meets his eyes again. “Yes, I have. I never imagined, but... You remember Franco?” Robbie nods. “He emailed me a couple of weeks ago to tell me that he was moving back to England, and he wanted to meet up. I told him I was with someone, but he persuaded me to have a drink for old times’ sake. And... I didn’t intend it to happen, Robbie, but I think he’s the one.”

Franco. Oh, he remembers, all right. Back then, she’d said he was an old flame, but that there was nothing there any more. “You’ve seen him again, then?”

“Just a couple of times. Nothing’s happened, Robbie. I wouldn’t do that to you. But we’ve talked a lot, and emailed, and–” She takes a deep breath, and her fingers twist the hem of her blouse. “When he was here before, all I could think about was you – and he was going back to Germany anyway, so I didn’t want to get attached.” She swallows. “I’m sorry, Robbie. I never meant to hurt you.”

He’s silent for several moments, then shakes his head. “No. Thing is, you’re right, pet. We could’ve been very comfortable together – but you deserve to come first in someone’s life. I’ve tried to give you that, an’ I thought I was managing it, but Val is still there in me head – an’ me heart.” 

He looks away from her and clenches his fists; while he can acknowledge that she’s right, and he won’t make it difficult for her to end their relationship, he’s pissed off that – whether or not she intended it – she started off the conversation by putting him in the wrong rather than telling him about Franco. But then, maybe this thing with Franco wouldn’t be happening if he’d been able to put Laura first? Impossible to know, and too late now, anyway.

Either he’s let his thoughts show on his face, or Laura just knows him too well, because she winces suddenly. “I went about this all wrong, didn’t I, Robbie? I didn’t mean that any of this is your fault. I’m the one who’s gone and fallen in love with someone else while I’m still with you. I’m so sor–”

“Enough.” He stands and goes to Laura, holding out his hand. She lets him pull her up and into a hug. “You can’t help falling in love, any more than I can help still missing Val.” He kisses her gently, then releases her. 

“I’ll just... get my things, then.” There’s a choke in Laura’s voice. This has been at least as hard for her as for him and, though he knows it’s unfair, he can’t help feeling just a little bit comforted to know that.

___________________________________________

Robbie’s just finished the washing-up when Laura returns with the belongings she’s left at his flat packed in one of those canvas shopping bags she must have had with her. She’d come here intending to end things this evening, then.

“I’ve got some stuff at yours, too,” he comments. 

She looks at him, eyes red-rimmed. “It’s not as if we won’t be seeing each other, at least I hope – I meant it, Robbie. I do care about you.”

He nods. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend.” He really doesn’t. He’s going to miss her, and what they’ve had together for the last few months, but better that they part ways now than later on, when it could have ended in bitterness or anger.

Laura comes over to him, then stretches up and kisses his cheek. “Look after yourself. Don’t be alone more than you can help. It’s not good for you.”

He shrugs; it’s not as if he hasn’t got used to being on his own over the past ten years. Although he hasn’t been, really, has he? “I’ve always got James to do something with if I want.”

Laura tilts her head to one side. “Hold onto him, Robbie. The two of you have something very rare and special, you know.”

Frowning, Robbie says, “He’s me friend. Best friend, I suppose. Nothin’ unusual about that.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s all it is. Oh, I know you think James is asexual, and you might be right. But asexual doesn’t always mean aromantic. I think James is quite capable of loving someone.” Reaching for the doorknob, Laura adds, “It’s bad form, I suppose, to be saying this on the same evening as I... well, dumped you – but you might think about it.”

A moment later, she’s gone, and Robbie’s left staring at a closed door with his head spinning. 

James? Did Laura actually suggest that James and he could be... what? Partners? Lovers? But that’s nonsense. Insane. He’s not gay and, even if James were interested in romantic or sexual relationships, he’s hardly going to want either with an old fart like him. It’s ridiculous, and he’s not going to entertain the idea for a second.

All the same, when he finds himself tempted to phone James to tell him what’s happened with Laura, her... suggestion, or whatever it was, won’t leave his head, and he puts his phone down without making the call.

___________________________________________

James doesn’t say anything at work the following morning, but shortly before noon he pushes back his chair. “I’m taking you out for lunch. Pie and chips at the Perch?”

“It’s not pensioners’ special day,” Robbie points out dryly as he follows James out of the office.

James turns, a smirk hovering briefly on his lips. “I think I can stretch to full price. We might have to share a dessert, though.”

An image flashes into Robbie’s mind of James holding a forkful of some fancy gateau out to him, and he flushes and looks away. “Get on with you.”

At the pub, James waits until they’re sitting outside, and he’s lit a cigarette. Then, leaning across the table to Robbie, he asks, “How did things go with Laura?”

Robbie feels his mouth turn down at the corners. “Got the old heave-ho, didn’t I?”

“What?” James’s eyes widen and his jaw slackens. “She dumped you? What on earth for? That just – no, that doesn’t make sense.”

“Does to her. And, if I’m honest, to me as well.” He explains as best he can. It’s surprisingly easy to tell James, as well as a bit cathartic – though he doesn’t mention Laura’s suggestion about him and James. In the cold light of day, he’s concluded that she was imagining things that aren’t there, maybe out of guilt. It’s all nonsense anyway, and he’s not going to give it another thought.

“I am sorry,” James says when he’s got to the end of the tale. “You seemed so happy when the two of you finally got together. To be honest, I was expecting any day that you’d tell me you were getting married.”

Robbie goes still at that. What does it say about his relationship with Laura that the thought of marriage never even crossed his mind? Oh, she was right; they really had just fallen into it because it was comfortable, easy. Which might have been okay, but she did deserve more. Maybe so does he, except he’s really not looking for it.

“Ah, it’s fine,” he assures James. “Really. I’m sorry it’s over, of course, an’ I’ll miss having her around, but doesn’t it tell you something that I’m not devastated?” James nods once, slowly. “Mind, you might have to put up with me a bit more, at least while I get used to bein’ on me own again.”

James frowns at that. “I hope I’ve never given you the impression that spending time with you outside work is a chore. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“Well, then.” Robbie picks up his glass and tilts it towards James, who raises his in return. “Dinner an’ crap telly at mine tonight?”

“Sure – no, I can’t. I’ve got band practice tonight. A drink afterwards instead?”

“Actually, can I come and listen? I can’t believe it’s been almost eight years an’ I’ve never heard your band play. Well, except on your ipod thingy, but that’s not the same.”

James’s smile is bashful but clearly pleased. “I’d like that very much.”

___________________________________________

The rehearsal is early, and it’s over by just after half eight. The music’s not really to Robbie’s taste, and he suspects he doesn’t actually understand it, but he can appreciate the quality of the performances – especially James’s. The bloke plays the guitar like a genius, all intensity and concentration mingled with flashes of awe and love on his face as his fingers move like lightning across the strings. Stroking them like a lo– Robbie stifles that thought at birth and makes himself go over to congratulate James, keeping his praise matter-of-fact. James still blushes endearingly and seems so pleased that Robbie mentally kicks himself for not having done this years ago.

As they leave the church together, Robbie suggests, “How about coming back to mine instead of going to the pub? I’ve got some salmon in the fridge that needs using.”

“Sounds good. I can stop at the off-licence on the way, if you like.”

“Nah, got plenty. Just bring yourself – and something to change into, if you’d like to get out of your suit.”

Dinner’s relaxed and casual in front of the telly, but after they’ve shared a bottle of wine it’s agreed that James should stay the night rather than drive. Robbie gets the pillow and blankets that now live in the hall cupboard for James’s use, but pauses as he’s carrying them back into the living room. Laura was right to point out what a good friend James is to him – and here he makes the bloke contort himself onto a sofa that’s too short for him and probably uncomfortable as well, after James has been kind enough to keep him company for the evening.

“Fancy helping me to find a new flat?” He drops the bedding on the couch and quirks an eyebrow in James’s direction.

“Moving again? How many times is that since we’ve met?” James asks, sounding amused.

Robbie ignores the dig. “I want somewhere with two bedrooms. You’re long past the stage when you should be expected to kip on someone’s couch.”

For a moment or two, James seems lost for words. Then he says, “I really don’t mind, Robbie. You don’t need to do this just for my benefit.”

“It’s for my benefit too. I won’t feel guilty about inviting you over if I know I’ve got a decent spare bed available when we’ve had a couple of drinks.”

“Well, thank you,” James says, touching Robbie’s arm briefly. “And my back thanks you as well.” He bends and moves the decorative cushions to the floor. “I’ll take a look at the letting agents’ websites tomorrow, yeah? Let me know what your price-range is and what areas you like, and I can get you a shortlist.”

“I was thinking more in terms of you coming to look at flats with me,” Robbie points out gently. “Not doin’ all the spadework.”

James smiles. “I’d be happy to. At least it’ll give me the chance to check out clearance.” He brushes the top of his head.

“Oh?”

“Did you know I had to duck every time I went upstairs at Laura’s, otherwise I risked getting my head clobbered on the ceiling halfway up the stairs?”

Robbie laughs. “Shouldn’t be so tall, then, should you?”

___________________________________________

For a few weeks, then, walking trips are replaced by viewings of flats, followed by animated discussions over a pint or two about the merits of the latest batch. At first, James defers to Robbie – “You’re the one who’s going to be living there” – but is easily persuaded to give an opinion when Robbie points out that he’s never shied away from airing his point of view in the past, and why stop now?

The eventual choice is the converted ground floor of a Georgian detached house – not in Summertown; Robbie couldn’t bring himself to live in that bastion of posh academic establishment – but on the way to Marston. Convenient for their favourite pub, James comments in its favour; good off-street parking and a back garden where he could plant some vegetables if he wants, and where James can smoke without looking like he’s loitering with intent, Robbie counters. 

The move is accomplished over a weekend, with the aid of a Transit van and a couple of James’s band-mates, and by the Sunday evening Robbie is mostly set up, with the essentials unpacked and furniture in its allotted place, including the new bedroom furniture he ordered on the sly and had delivered the previous day. The flat’s got two bathrooms, which will save time when James sleeps there on a work-night, and the living area is mostly open-plan, with a large kitchen and eating area and a wide arch into the sitting-room.

“I haven’t had enough space to sprawl out on the floor in years!” James exclaims, throwing himself down in front of the sofa with his head back against the seat cushions. 

“Not since you hit your growth spurt, I’d imagine,” Robbie comments. Without thinking, he reaches out and ruffles James’s hair. He’s about to apologise as he draws his hand back, but just as he opens his mouth to speak James glances around at him, a smile on his lips that Robbie can only describe as _happy_. 

Well, if James likes Robbie feeling comfortable enough to touch him with that sort of affectionate teasing, Robbie’s fine with it.

“Should bring some of your clothes over, now you’ve got space for them,” he says after a bit. “Spare razor, toothbrush, that sort of thing, too.”

“Cafetiere, wok, coffee-grinder, teapot...” James adds with a smirk. 

Robbie cuffs the back of his head lightly. “Cheeky sod.” With a grin, he reaches into his pocket for the spare key to the flat, and throws it in an underarm lob onto James’s lap. “Any time you want to come over while I’m not here an’ use any of that stuff to cook me dinner, I won’t complain.”

James picks up the key, gripping it tightly in his hand for a long moment before digging in his pocket for his keyring. “Tofu and bean curry with brown rice all right?”

___________________________________________

“Tell me I was never such a bloody stupid tosser as that,” Robbie exclaims with a disgusted look one rainy evening in late December as they run from his car to the front door.

James laughs as he follows Robbie inside, stamping his feet to shake off the worst of the wet. “You didn’t much like technology when we first worked together. Took me months to train you on how to read texts on your phone – and as for emails, there were times I thought you’d never manage it.”

“Well, if they’d only make phone keyboards for people without perfect eyesight or spindly fingers...” Robbie grumbles. “Still, at least I never refused to read me email. Is it any wonder Logan’s case reports are such a mess?”

“It’s his poor sergeant I feel sorry for,” James says with feeling, moving to put the kettle on. “She does her best, but when her governor gives her scrappy, hand-written notes to work from and won’t even read the criminal profiling reports because he _doesn’t trust that mumbo-jumbo_ , it’s no wonder she’s frustrated. He’s not just a bad detective; he’s wrecking her career.”

“And putting forward cases CPS can’t prosecute,” Robbie adds. “Should have been put out to grass long ago.” He sets out mugs and the tea-caddy. “Gonna talk to Innocent about him tomorrow. And, yes, about Barnes too. She deserves a decent governor.” 

“Someone who’ll encourage her and make her feel valued,” James adds, warming the pot. “Someone like you.”

“Thanks, but I’m not available.” 

“No, you’re not.” And Robbie could swear that the look James gives him is pure possession. Then James jabs him with his elbow and demands the tea-caddy, and it’s gone – but not forgotten.

___________________________________________

“Glad you came?” Robbie aims a rueful grin in James’s direction.

“Absolutely! I’ve always wanted to get soaked to the skin in a Shropshire forest in February.” James shakes one foot. “I’m not sure my shoes will ever recover.”

“Ah, you’re too soft, lad. Call this rain? It’s nothing but a bit o’ drizzle,” Robbie retorts with a grin. A loud thunder-clap echoes overhead, and he groans, more in relief than at being proved wrong. “All right, best get back to the B&B, then.”

Even jogging, it takes more than half an hour to get back to where Robbie’s car is parked at the edge of Mortimer Forest, and they’re both shivering as they climb inside and Robbie turns the heat on full blast. “Not the best idea I’ve ever had,” he concedes wryly as he wrestles himself out of his anorak. 

“What, a weekend in the Welsh Marches at this time of year? What could possibly have been wrong with that?” James replies, tone dry as a desert. 

“Well, there is one good thing,” Robbie says as he starts the car.

“What’s that?”

“The B&B’s attached to a pub. We don’t have to go out in the rain to get a pint. Or dinner, if the menu’s any good.”

“Thank goodness for small mercies.” James is looking up the Church Inn in Ludlow on his phone, at first getting directions and then, as Robbie gets onto the right road, checking the menu. “Looks good to me. I should think it’ll even satisfy your preference for red meat and plenty of carbohydrates.”

“Good. No goin’ out again this evening, then.” Robbie smiles in grim satisfaction. “We should’ve done this sooner, y’know. October, before the weather changed. I meant to suggest it, but we were flat-hunting for me, and then Innocent wanted the training plan, an’ then it was Christmas.” Which he’d spent in Manchester; although it’d been great spending time with Lyn, Tim and the bairn, he’d kept wondering what James was doing and kicking himself for not asking the bloke to come with him – and then wondering why on earth he’d think that James would even want to. 

“I’d like to do this again, actually,” James says as they turn into the car park. “Not this, precisely, of course – I’d like better weather, if nothing else – but getting away from Oxford for a couple of days. Maybe even further afield, if you’d like – a long weekend in Scotland or Ireland might be nice.”

“Val an’ me talked about going to Ireland,” Robbie comments, turning off the engine. It feels strange that he can talk about her now without the pang of loss that’s been there for so long – but good, because he can remember her the way she should be remembered, without the pain and anguish. “Never got around to it, though. We thought a week, ten days, just driving around the coast an’ staying in a different place every night.” He glances at James. “You fancy that?”

“Very much. If you’re sure you want to spend that much of your holiday allowance with me.”

Robbie shakes his head. “Ah, man, who else would I spend it with?” He reaches for the door-handle. “Come on, let’s make a run for it before the thunder starts again.”

___________________________________________

Fortunately, their room is ready – they opted to share a twin-bedded room rather than go for two singles – and so they take turns to have a hot shower and dress in dry clothes before heading down to the pub.

“Come on, own up – this was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” James raises his pint with a grin. “Getting me to spend the afternoon in a pub with you?”

“If it had been, I’d have found a way that didn’t involve both of us risking pneumonia first!” He sneezes. “I still might end up with it. How’s your bedside manner?”

“Probably about as good as your database skills.” Putting down his pint, James leans across the table and lays his hand on Robbie’s. “But for you, I’d make an exception,” he murmurs in what Robbie recognises as his ‘phone sex’ voice. “I’d sit beside you and soothe your fevered brow.”

Christ, he’s feeling warm inside. “Give over, you.” He pulls his hand away, but misses the warmth immediately. “Go on, do something useful and get us the menus.”

After an excellent meal, and a shared dessert, followed by another couple of pints, they take a stroll outside so James can have a final couple of cigarettes. It’s not raining now, and the sky’s clear, with stars visible on the western horizon. 

“Thank you – for suggesting this,” James says as they near the pub again. “I’d thought a couple of times about longer trips, but I wasn’t sure you’d consider an overnight stay.”

“You might be sorry in the morning,” Robbie quips. “After all, according to Laura, I snore. Kept her awake half the night.”

In the street-light, he sees James’s faint grin. “When you’ve slept in dormitories at a boys’ boarding school, nothing keeps you awake. I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“Soon find out, won’t we?” He loops an arm around James’s shoulders. “Bed, James. An’ no waking me before the sun’s up, even if you are gasping for a smoke.”

“I will be the perfect sleeping partner, I promise,” James says, deadpan, and jogs inside and up the stairs.

___________________________________________

“Robbie, any chance you could meet me for a coffee?”

“What, now?” Laura’s phoned him at the office. They’ve stayed in touch, and as time’s gone by have met for drinks or coffee occasionally. He hasn’t met Franco, who is still very much in the picture, though Laura’s hinted at dinner a couple of times. His reluctance has been more out of consideration for Franco than his own feelings; he’s not sure how he’d feel about having a meal with an ex-partner of someone he was in love with.

“If you’re free.”

He glances at James. “Mind if I disappear for half an hour or so?” James, busy at his computer, makes a _go on_ gesture. “Be there shortly,” he tells Laura.

They’re comfortable these days again, him and Laura; he kisses her cheek when he arrives, and they banter about incompetent forensics and SOCO staff and coppers and doctors who have no manners and expect miracles in no time at all. It’s nearly twenty minutes before she gets to the reason she asked him to meet her.

“I have some news, Robbie. I wanted to tell you myself, not have you hear...” 

Her smile’s a bit awkward, and he nods reassuringly. “Go on, love.”

“Franco and I are getting married. Just a small ceremony, close friends and family. It’s next month at the Old Parsonage on the Banbury Road. We–”

She’s almost babbling in her agitation. Robbie reaches across and covers her wrist with his hand. “I’m very happy for you, love. I mean it – I’m glad you’ve found the right person for you. I wish you every happiness.”

Her smile lights up her face. “I’m glad. I’ve felt guilty – I treated you badly–”

“You didn’t,” he insists. “Told you at the time, you were right. Now, I hope I’m one of those close friends who’s getting an invitation to your wedding?”

“Of course you are. Actually,” she adds with an impish grin that’s more like the Laura he knows, “I wanted to ask you about that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. Should I invite James separately, or will you be bringing him as your plus-one?”

Robbie almost chokes on his coffee. 

It only takes a few moments, though, to acknowledge that it’s not that ridiculous an idea. “Suppose it makes sense. I’d be going on me own otherwise, and if you’d be inviting James as well we’d end up going together anyway.”

He’s half-expecting an _I told you so_ , and is relieved when she just smiles at him over the rim of her coffee-cup.

___________________________________________

Back at the office, James gives him an enquiring look as soon as he comes in. He can’t resist a smirk as he says, “Get your best party frock ironed. You’ve pulled.” (They’ve been watching _Ashes to Ashes_ together lately. Robbie doesn’t quite fancy himself as Gene Hunt, bad policing methods aside, but couldn’t resist just now).

James blinks, apparently speechless. Robbie perches on the edge of his desk and explains. “Laura’s getting married. Told her I’d bring you as me date so she wouldn’t need to send you a separate invitation.”

James’s stunned look turns into a cheeky grin. “I’ll expect at least a couple of dances with you, then. On one condition: absolutely no Barry Manilow!”

Robbie snorts. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. “Long as you remember I lead.”

___________________________________________

The wedding’s on a beautiful, sunny day in early May, and James is playing the part of Robbie’s _date_ with far too much enjoyment for Robbie’s peace of mind. He stayed at Robbie’s the night before, at Robbie’s suggestion, so that they could set off together with the minimum of fuss. While James hasn’t, obviously, gone so far as to wear a dress for the occasion, he’s just produced matching ties and buttonholes.

It feels ridiculous, but Robbie knows Laura will be amused, so he goes along with it – and with James sliding his hand through Robbie’s elbow as they walk into the hotel. Daft bugger. 

The ceremony’s taking place in a small function room, with dinner afterwards in a private dining room. As they follow the signs for the Hobson-Lopez wedding, the first person Robbie recognises is Innocent. He also sees the exact moment she spots James’s hand on his arm. _Bollocks_. His first instinct is to pull away, but in that same moment he notices James’s face. The bloke _knows_ that he’ll detach himself hurriedly and make some kind of embarrassed excuse to Innocent, and James is resigned to it.

Well, bollocks to that. James is his best mate, and if he can’t have a laugh with his best mate off-duty... So he draws himself to his full height, puts on his most polite smile, and advances towards his boss. “Very nice dress, if I can say so, ma’am.”

If it was anyone other than Innocent, he’d say she was close to blushing. “Well, thank you, Robbie. And I must say, you and James look very dapper.” She drops her gaze to their joined arms. “Is there something you two haven’t told me?”

“I couldn’t get a date for today,” James says, his tone full of exaggerated disappointment. “Chief Inspector Lewis very kindly took pity on me.”

Innocent gives them a look of exasperated disbelief, but fails to hide the smile that immediately follows.

The wedding’s short but moving, and Laura looks gorgeous. Franco can’t keep his eyes off her, and Robbie’s glad once again that Laura had the courage and initiative to end things between them. Looks like this bloke’s the right one for her – just like he was the right one for his Val. There’s a lump in his throat as Laura and Franco turn to the assembled guests, hand in hand as husband and wife.

A hand slides over his and presses gently before being removed. He glances sideways at James, who appears to have his entire focus on Laura and Franco; but Robbie catches the lightning flick of James’s eyes in his direction. Even now, the lad’s still supporting him when the memories hit.

The guest list is small enough that the reception dinner is friendly and informal, and Robbie’s able to study Laura enough to confirm once again that she’s very happy. She comes to sit with them for a bit, later on, and her gaze slides from Robbie to James and back again. “Nice ties. Buy one get one free?”

“Absolutely,” James replies with a completely straight face. “I only got the second buttonhole at half-price, though.”

“Carnations are so expensive these days.” Laura smothers a grin. “Hard to keep up standards.”

“Speakin’ of keeping up standards,” Robbie interjects, “I notice you went all non-traditional in there.” He jerks his head towards the function-room where the marriage ceremony took place. “Or did you just forget the obey bit?”

Laura glares and smacks his arm, and he grins. James tilts his chin. “Actually, there’s nothing traditional about the bride promising to obey. The earliest marriage ceremonies didn’t include any reference to obedience – it was all about the woman’s property passing to her husband. Even that bastion of tradition, the Church of England, offered couples a choice in the original Book of Common Prayer. Both spouses could promise to love and cherish rather than–”

“Yeah, thank you very much, Mr Know-it-all.” Robbie jogs James’s elbow. “For the record, Val was always the boss in our house.”

“Quite right, too.” James stands and offers his hand to Laura. “Might I have the honour of this dance?”

“Sorry, already promised to my husband.” Laura gets to her feet as well. “I’ll take you up on it later, though – and you’re not escaping, Robbie, so don’t try.”

“Well, if the loveliest woman in the room won’t dance with me, I’ll have to make do with the most handsome man.” Eyes dancing, James extends a hand to Robbie. 

“You’re jok–”

“You can’t possibly renege on a promise, Robbie.” The hand’s still there. “Besides, I think I see Innocent bearing down in your direction...”

Robbie stands and takes James’s hand. “Christ almighty, I’ll never live this down. Just don’t bloody tread on me feet!”

___________________________________________

“I thought that assistant pathologist was going to have an apoplectic fit!” Robbie passes James a mug of coffee and they retreat to the sofa.

“His eyes were bulging a bit alarmingly, weren’t they?” James dissolves into laughter.

“You’d think he’d never seen two blokes dancin’ before.” 

“If you call that dancing...” James shakes his head, a pitying expression on his face. “I thought you said you and Val took ballroom lessons?”

“Oi, I knew what I was doing. It was when you tried to dip me we had problems.” Robbie affects a long-suffering look. “Next time I’d appreciate a warning.”

“Oh, so there’s going to be a next time?” Oh, the smug bastard; he needs that smile wiped off his face. Robbie jabs his elbow into James’s side, but James retaliates by dropping his head to Robbie’s shoulder. “My Prince Charming.”

“Oh, give over.” But he lets his head rest against James’s. It should feel strange, but it’s nice, being close to someone again, even if it is his frequently-annoying, awkward sod of a best mate.

Much later, James stretches and starts to get up. “I should be on my way.”

“Ah, what for?” Robbie tugs him back with a hand on his shoulder. “Perfectly good bedroom just down the hall, as you well know. ‘Sides, I thought we could go out somewhere tomorrow. Weather’s supposed to be nice. Give us a chance to walk off all that food an’ alcohol.”

James’s lips curve upwards at the corners and he settles back against Robbie’s side, letting his head rest against Robbie’s again. “I’d like that.”

Robbie takes a deep breath; he’s been considering this for long enough and it’s about time. “Listen, why don’t you just move in, man? Plenty of room here, an’ what’s the point of paying rent on a flat you’re not in much more than half the time anyway?”

James jolts upwards, his eyes widening impossibly, and for a moment he seems lost for words. When he speaks, his tone is almost artificially calm. “What about work? Me staying the occasional night is nobody’s business, but if I move in... You are my boss, and you’re currently assessing me for promotion.”

Robbie shrugs. He has been considering this for a couple of months, after all. “Yeah, I know what people will think. But I can be up-front with Innocent – if she knows, we’re covered. Think we’ve proved over the years that we can separate our friendship from our work relationship. You’ve never taken advantage, an’ I’ve never been easier on you than I should. So if two coppers who are good mates an’ like each other’s company decide to share a flat, all above board, why should it be a problem?”

There’ll be gossip if it gets out, yes, but he’s been pretty adept at squashing gossip over the years – like the times when a couple of junior officers started spreading rumours and insinuations about _Lewis's queer sergeant_. Helped, of course, that that kind of nonsense is against the Force’s equality and anti-harassment policies. 

James studies him silently for several moments; then he nods. “If you’re absolutely sure, then I would be delighted. Thank you. All expenses shared equally, of course.”

“Naturally. What d’you think I am? Your sugar daddy?”

___________________________________________

They’re slumped side by side on the sofa late one evening in July when Robbie reaches for the piece of folded paper he hid under a cushion earlier and passes it to James.

James unfolds it, takes one glance, then looks at Robbie with a slow smile. “Car ferry booking to Ireland?”

Robbie grins in return. “Thought it was about time we had a holiday, an’ you said you’d like to go. Couple of days in Dublin, then a week drivin’ around the coast, yeah?”

“I’ll look forward to it.” The words and tone are calm, but the pleasure in James’s eyes is definitely worth every penny of the ferry cost, and the trouble it took to make sure James had no idea what he was up to – one downside of both living and working with the bloke is that there isn’t a lot of time when they’re not together.

“It’s not till the end of August,” Robbie points out. “Thought it’d be a nice way to celebrate your full promotion. The assessment period ends the week before we go.”

“I had noticed.” James raises one eyebrow. “That does rather assume that I will pass.”

Robbie taps the side of his nose. “No comment.” Though James is well aware that the decision is mostly his – and, completely aside from their friendship, if he’d had any doubts about James’s performance at Inspector level he would have told the bloke long ago so that he could do what was necessary to improve. As it is, the lad’s sailing through, no doubt about it. “Anyway, you’ve got a month to do all that stuff you like with maps and checking out B&Bs online.”

James’s lips twitch. “I will have three options for you to choose from by the end of next week.”

“What, not till then? Your standards are slipping, man!”

___________________________________________

“Chief Inspector Lewis tells me you’ve passed the assessment with flying colours. Congratulations, Inspector Hathaway!”

Anyone not familiar with James would think he’s showing virtually no reaction – but Robbie knows that subtle stretch of his lips and the tic in the lad’s jaw. He’s made up, though his voice is completely serious as he responds. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“My own observations concur completely, by the way,” Innocent adds. “Not that I’m casting doubt on Robbie’s judgement, or his objectivity, but given the closeness of your off-duty friendship it’s as well to leave no doubt as to the impartiality of the assessment.”

She’s right, of course. There are officers at the station who wouldn’t hesitate to cast aspersions or, even worse, make a formal accusation. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” Robbie glances at James again; he’s back to inscrutable. “I take it the promotion’s with immediate effect?”

“Indeed. I’ve already actioned it with HR and the County, and I’ll be sending out an email to the station immediately.” Innocent pauses, and Robbie knows very well that she’s going to wind them up about something. “I trust you two will be celebrating this evening? I do happen to have a couple of spare tickets for the Lord Lieutenant’s ball...”

Robbie grits his teeth – and then hears a faint snigger from beside him. “Very kind of you, ma’am, but it’s not quite Inspector Hathaway’s thing. He’s more into world music, mediaeval madrigals an’ the like.” He grips James’s arm, practically shoving him towards the door. “If that’s all, ma’am?”

“For now, yes.” Bloody woman’s trying her best not to laugh. Robbie shakes his head and follows James out of the room.

___________________________________________

“You said you would dance with me again.” Across the table in the well-rated but thankfully not too pretentious trattoria, James actually pouts.

“Yeah, well, sometimes I lie.” Robbie keeps a straight face as he tops up James’s glass. 

“And sometimes,” James murmurs, his voice low-pitched, “you tease.” Amusement sparks in his eyes and he taps his index finger lightly against Robbie’s hand.

“Sometimes I do.” Robbie leans back in his seat and smirks at his companion. Christ, it really is easy – and fun – to have this kind of conversation with James, teasing the hell out of each other.

“You’re good at it.” James takes a bite of his sea-bass, but his gaze never leaves Robbie’s. “It’s no wonder we were tripping over women who fancied you in all our years of detecting.”

“There were a few who fancied you an’ all.” Robbie cocks his head on one side; he doesn’t want to push, but he’s curious.

“Wasn’t interested.” James raises his wine-glass to his lips, still watching Robbie. “I only ever had eyes for one person.” His smile’s sly, and his expression’s that combination of amused and enigmatic that’s become so familiar to Robbie over the time they’ve known each other.

“Don’t tell me; you’ve had a crush on Innocent all these years.” Robbie shakes his head with a wicked smirk. “Should’ve let you stand in for Mr Innocent at those bloody posh dos.”

“You’re joking. She’s far too scary. Can you imagine?” Wide-eyed, James pulls a face, then concentrates on finishing off his fish. Robbie turns his attention back to his steak, but he can’t help surreptitiously glancing at James to see if the bloke’s watching him again. It’s oddly flattering to be the object of his friend’s intense focus, even if James is just doing it to– 

To what? Tease? Flirt? Nah, not flirt. Flirting implies... well, that there’s something there, doesn’t it? And they’re mates, that’s all. Best mates, true, and they are closer than he’s been with any bloke he’s known before. And even Laura thought...

No. He’s never been interested in–

Ah, what’s it matter? Robbie pushes the thought away. They like each other’s company and they’re having fun, and that’s all that matters. Why analyse it to death?

“Dessert? I fancy tiramisu.” Robbie waves the waiter over.

___________________________________________

“You have to try this.” Without thinking, Robbie takes a forkful of his dessert and holds it out to James.

Eyes widening, James leans forward and allows Robbie to feed him the tiramisu. He doesn’t shift his gaze from Robbie as he swallows. “It is good. Here, try this.” In a slow, deliberate gesture, he extends a forkful of chocolate torte to Robbie, and Robbie finds himself opening his mouth to accept it.

The hitch of breath after he swallows has nothing to do with the torte, and he knows it.

“What are we doing?” he asks, trusting – as he always has, all these years – that James will have the answer.

“Whatever it is–” James’s free hand inches across the table until his fingertips are brushing Robbie’s. “–maybe we should consider doing it at home rather than here?”

“Yeah.” Robbie blinks, forcing his gaze away from James, and signals the waiter for the bill. He had planned on coffee and liqueurs as well – today called for a proper celebration – but right now all he wants is to get back to their flat. 

James’s fingers slide over Robbie’s. “I’ll phone for a taxi.”

___________________________________________

The journey in the taxi is silent and interminable.

Robbie’s not had this many butterflies in his stomach since his first date with Val, and his only reassurance is that, for all his bravado in the restaurant, James is equally tense, judging by the whiteness of his knuckles.

What’s he going to do when they get home? What will _they_ do? All kinds of images are scrolling through his brain, none of which he can imagine himself doing with James. And yet... and yet he’s itching to touch the bloke. The way he’d felt when James touched his hand in the restaurant, even though only the pads of his fingers were resting on Robbie’s... Christ.

When they’re finally inside the flat, all they seem to be able to do is stare at each other without speaking. Robbie’s heart is beating so fast, so erratically, he’s sure James must be able to hear it. Whether he can or not, James is swallowing and fidgeting – and then he tears his gaze away and starts to move. “I’ll put the kettle on, then, shall I?”

He’s being given an out. They can just have a normal evening on the sofa watching crap telly or having a natter. Neither of them will refer to any of that stuff in the restaurant ever again.

And in that moment, Robbie knows that’s the last thing he wants. He reaches out to James, sliding a hand around the back of the bloke’s head to tug it downwards, and kisses him.

It’s not awkward. It’s not embarrassing or scratchy or _weird_ or any of the things Robbie might have imagined – if he’d imagined kissing James, which he hadn’t, not really. It’s... Robbie grips James’s shoulders and shoves him back against the living-room wall, bringing their bodies into close, _intimate_ contact. James’s hand is in his hair, holding him steady as he changes the angle of the kiss and slides his tongue forward to rasp against the inside of Robbie’s mouth. James tastes of wine, chocolate and garlic, and faintly of nicotine, and although Robbie never thought he’d be okay with kissing a smoker he couldn’t care less right now. Couldn’t want to keep kissing this smoker more.

Why hadn’t he known he wanted this?

They break apart, breathing heavily, and the way James is looking at him... “How long?”

James shrugs. “A while.”

Robbie stills. _I only ever had eyes for one person_. Christ. All that time? Though it’s as well, really. James was his bagman, and then he was assessing the lad for promotion. Yeah, he’s still James’s superior officer, but this isn’t as inappropriate as it would have been before today.

“Ah, you daft sod.” Robbie reaches up to kiss James again, this time lightly, affectionately. “Were you ever gonna say anything?”

James arches a brow. “Let’s see... I cooked for you, offered you a shoulder to cry on, bought you a tie and a carnation, asked you to dance, practically cuddled with you on the sofa. What did I have to do? Arrange myself naked on your bed?”

“Might’ve worked,” Robbie mutters, feeling himself flush at the mental image of James Hathaway, bare as the day he was born, sprawled across his bed. And, abruptly, he wants that more than he wants to breathe. It takes a moment before he’s able to speak. “Why don’t you try it and we’ll see?”

The sudden heat in James’s eyes sends a shiver through Robbie. “Yes. Yes, _please_.”

Robbie holds out a hand to his friend... his soon-to-be lover. “Go on, then.”

“With pleasure.” James entangles their fingers.

This is going to be a huge change in their relationship – and yet, as Robbie follows James into the bedroom, it strikes him that it won’t be very much change at all. They’ve been practically married for ages – years, maybe – and he never realised it. James did, though. Smartarse. But _his_ smartarse.

Mind, there’s only one downside. Laura’s gonna bloody say _I told you so_.

___________________________________________


End file.
